An Unlikely Alliance
by LordMelvin
Summary: Three warriors from different backgrounds are brought together to fight a great evil...But is there a reason, some guiding force behind their union?
1. A Bumpy Ride

(For the purpose of this story, 1 meter = 3 feet)

"100 meters to landing." chimed a feminine voice from the overhead speakers, tension hardening the edges of each word.

Tarkus tightened his crash harness. "Prepare for impact." he ordered his squad.

"40 meters to landing." chimed the voice again.

Suddenly, the whole ship rocked violently. "Pilot!" shouted Tarkus, "What's going on out there?"

"I don't know! I can't see anything through this cloud cover!" the pilot called back, "I think we're taking heavy AA fire, sir! It'll take some doing, but I'll get us through."

A rapid countdown appeared opposite Tarkus, displaying the final descent. Tarkus felt his muscles tighten in anticipation of hot-dropping into a combat zone. 20 meters to go. 10 meters. Finally the countdown reached zero. But the Thunderhawk never touched down. Instead, when the countdown reached zero, Tarkus's world exploded into fire.

***


	2. A Rude Awakening

John sat back against a rock. The drop from orbit had been hell. Even the worst storms hadn't created that much turbulence. He took a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air and the scent of the jungle rising from below him. It truly was a beautiful planet, even if the files hadn't listed any jungles anywhere on the surface. In fact, the whole planet was supposed to be covered in desert. John didn't care much. It was nice seeing a place that hadn't been touched by civilization yet.

Suddenly, an explosion broke his revere. John looked to the west to see a burning object fall rapidly through the sky, trailing smoke and flaming bits of wreckage. He quickly grabbed his sniper rifle and peered through the scope, tracking the falling object. He could't see what it was, but as far as he could tell it was some sort of landing craft. It disappeared into the thick treetops, releasing another explosion when it hit the ground far below. John stood up.

"Well, I guess I should go check it out then." he muttered to himself. He reached out, grabbing his helmet and putting it on. The helmet sealed with a hiss as the atmospheric locks engaged. He then shouldered his rifle and checked the magazine on his assault rifle.

"This is Spartan 117, beginning reconnaisance of the local area."

***


	3. A New Challenger Has Appeared

High in orbit, a small region of space puckered, then exploded in a shower of light, disgorging an even smaller object. A space craft.

It hurtled towards the planet, easily passing through the atmosphere to land in a heavily overgrown section of ruins near the planet's equator.

A figure leapt out. Quickly surveying its surroundings, it moved off with a purpose. It would not be interrupted on it's mission.

The poison had to be stopped. It would not be allowed to claim this planet.

Not again.

***


	4. You're Not Alone

Pain.

Unimaginable pain.

Tarkus tried to open his eyes. All he could see was darkness. At first he thought he had gone blind, until he realized that they were just caked shut. Raising a hand to his face, he wiped away the crud gluing his eyelids shut. Once his eyes were clear, he looked around. The first thing he saw was a tree. The second was the fact that he was hanging 15 meters above the ground. He righted himself and dropped to the jungle floor. He immediately fell to one knee as his left leg gave out. Tarkus looked down to see the source of the pain. A meter long piece of metal was sticking through the thigh, about half-way down. He gripped the metal spar and, grimacing, yanked it free with a roar. Tarkus pressed a hand over the wound to staunch the flow of blood and limped along the scorched scar left in the earth.

After about an hour's worth of travel, he came across the broken and battered wreck of his squad's Thunderhawk transport. The right wing was left buried in the ground at a 30 degree angle, 7 meters behind the rest of of the transport. The body of the transport rested on the remaining wing, surrounded by fragmented bits of armor and other detritus. Tarkus entered the wreck through the large gash in the side left behind when the wing came off. Inside, the bodies of his Tactical squad were scattered in various states of bereavement. Firenze had been impaled by one of the support spars from the transport's roof. Bolovus had been apparently burned alive when a fuel line was severed and swung, spewing white hot flames, into the soft armor at his neck. Galen hadn't even escaped his crash harness, crushed alive when the sides of his safety niche collapsed around his. Tarkus felt his gorge rise at the sight of so many brothers dead at once, especially when he came to the realization that none of them had been killed by accident. Here and there, signs of obvious sabotage or tampering became evident to his keen eyes. He offered a prayer to the Emperor to guide their souls, made the sign of the Aquila, and left the transport.

By now, the wound in his leg had scabbed over and begun to heal, though it still pulled tight with every step. Tarkus knew he would have to be careful should he come into any confrontation. Beginning at the the crashed Thunderhawk, he began a sweeping search of the local area. After half an hour's search, he finally found what he was looking for: an intact Imperial weapons crate. Somehow it had been thrown free of the wreck, sporting only a few minor dents and scratches.

A lot like me, Tarkus thought ruefully.

Inside were a number of bolters, several spare clips, and a chainsword. Tarkus removed the chainsword, checking the power cell to make sure it was fully charged, and hooked it to his belt. Then he reverently lifted a bolter from the case. Tiny inscriptions on the back listed the previous owners. Tarkus offered another prayer to ward the holy weapon from jamming and to keep it's aim true. It wasn't perfect, but without a Techmarine to provide an authentic anointment, it would have to do. He also took six extra magazines and put them in his spare belt pouches. He loaded one into the bolter and racked the slide, a smile cracking the granite slab of his face at the harsh metallic sound. It occurred to Tarkus at this point that he wasn't wearing a helmet. He was loathe to cannibalize equipment from a fallen brother, but he would need the enhanced senses in this place. He looked around some more, but every one he found was either cracked or non-functional. The only working helm he was able to find was still worn by Lycanus, who had been cleaved in half by a stray sheet of armor plating. Had he not been a Space Marine, and had he lacked all the training and experience he'd gathered over the centuries, Tarkus probably would have wept to see such a waste of gene-seed. As it was, he felt a tightening in his chest, as though an invisible knot were growing there. He shook his head. He could not allow himself to be distracted. He could not allow his centuries of training and experience be waster on such trivial matters as grief. Their deaths would be mourned in the only way an Angel of Death knows how: vengeance and honor. Each brother who died here would have a place of honor on the walls of honor within the Omnis Arcanum.

"May you rest in peace Lycanus," Tarkus whispered as he removed the dead brother's helm, "and may I honour your wargear as you once did. Courage and honour."

A rustle behind him caught his attention. He had tarried too long. He was no longer alone. Donning Lycanus's helmet, Tarkus took up a defensive position behind some wreckage, and awaited the mysterious intruder.

***


	5. Confrontation

***

It was huge.

Larger than he could possibly imagine.

John stared down the massive groove cut in the jungle floor by the ship. From this distance, he could see it was a transport, though what could possibly have been transported by anything of this size was beyond his comprehension. It was a deep shade of red where the paint hadn't been burned or scraped off. Enormous cannon mounts on each wing labeled it as some form of combat transport, but John had no idea what kind of ammunition would be used in a weapon of such a large caliber. Even the cargo clamps on the underside of the ship looked big enough to hold a Pelican or two.

John moved closer. There were no identifying numbers and the only decoration on the outside seemed to be a large black bird, wings spread out, with a red teardrop at the center. It was repeated all over the hull: on the body, on the wings, even on the rivets. He made a slow circuit around the wreck. A large hole on the starboard side had been torn in the hull when the wing came off, probably when it dropped into the canopy of trees. Other than that, there were no additional openings in the hull large enough for anyone to fit through. From the outside, John could see figures inside, but it was too dark to make out any details. He shouldered his assault rifle and prepared to climb inside when a large signature appeared on his radar. In one fluid motion, he drew his assault rifle, spun around, dropped into a combat crouch, and aimed for his target's head.

Instead of a head in his sights however, all John saw was a massive breastplate emblazoned with a more ornate version of the emblem he had seen on the side of the transport. He looked up at the giant before him. It was at least two meters tall, towering over him like a mountain of red armor. Clutched in its massive armored fists was an equally large gun, the barrel pointed straight at his chest. John swallowed. The only thing like this he had ever encountered was a Covenant Hunter, and while they were hard enough to take out without heavy weaponry, one could be brought down with sufficient agility. Something about this warrior made John think that it wouldn't go down as easily. Maybe it was the fact that it was fully plated, maybe it was the massive gun that it wielded so easily, maybe it was the emotionless green eyepieces staring unwaveringly down at him, but whatever it was, John didn't want to be on the wrong side of this one. He slowly raised his weapon and straightened, hoping the warrior would get the point. The figure in red armor didn't react for a few seconds, as though considering the maneuver. Then, after what seemed to be an eternity, it too straightened, though it didn't lower it's weapon. John breathed a sigh of relief. Things were going well.


	6. Moving Out

John decided to make the first move.

"Do you understand me?" he asked, speaking slowly.

The other figure nodded cautiously. John continued.

"My name is Master Chief and I-"

"Are you xeno?"

John paused, thrown off guard. "What?"

"Are you xeno?" came the response.

"I- No. No, I- I'm from Earth." he said puzzled.

"Good." The gun finally came down. "I am Tarkus, Tactical sergeant of the Blood Ravens."

John blinked, thrown off.

Tarkus continued, "Some cur shot us down in orbit. My squad is fallen, and I cannot use our Thunderhawk to return to my brothers in orbit." He tapped the side of his helmet. "Also, something is jamming my communications. I cannot call for aid."

John nodded numbly. He was still stunned by Tarkus's size. He watched as the red armored warrior lifted some scattered hull plating, looking for something. Each plate must have weighed over a ton. "Ummmm, what are you doing?" He asked, cautiously.

Tarkus answered without turning around, "I am trying to find my helmet. The vox systems within it may be more intact, and they are advanced enough that I may be able to get a signal." He straightened with a red object in his hands. He turned it over several times, inspecting it before replacing his current helm with it. "Throne!" he cursed, "Still nothing. But I can discern that the jamming is coming from a temple 3 kilometers to the north." He turned to march the direction he indicated, hefting his bolter in the process. "Are you coming?"

John shrugged, checked the load on his Assault Rifle, shouldered his Sniper Rifle, and fell in behind Tarkus. "He's almost as bad as Johnson," John murmured. "_Oh, be nice_," Cortana said in his ear.

* * *

Author's Note: Hello people of the internet! It is I, the great and powerful creator of this fanfiction. Ok, so maybe it isn't THAT great. It is my first after all. But hey, if you've made it this far, you must like it right?

Anyway, I've been falling a little behind on my updates...Actually, REALLY far behind. It's not even done yet. "A SOLUTION!" I hear you cry. Well, I have a plan that will keep you all happy and me sane. I'm going to do weekly updates. Every Friday, a new chapter will come out (at least, until I'm done with the whole thing.) So please, hold your pitchforks and torches until the end!


	7. Watched From Afar

A figure moved amongst the trees.

It moved with a gait that belied injury. Apparently, this planet's inhabitants were not kind to visitors.

Her armor had taken the brunt of the damage, but it's systems had become overloaded, and subsequently shut down.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. But that didn't make it any less of a problem.

The figure redressed the wounds on her leg and arm. They hampered her, but not enough that she couldn't defend herself in a pinch.

She tripped over a hidden tree root and fell into the mud. Her bodysuit immediately absorbed the filthy water, darkening it's normally color. The end result was more of a dirty navy.

The figure stood, wiped herself down with her good arm, and continued to follow the two warriors.

She couldn't approach them yet, but once she became aware of their intentions, she would be sure to take the appropriate action. Her life, and that of the planet's, depended on it.

***


	8. Ambush

John brushed away another branch, releasing another shower of water. The driving rain had only given up a few hours ago, and the forest still dripped from the downpour. The thick foliage meant that it was difficult to see anything further than a few meters into the tree line, and dispite the fact that his motion detector had remained clear since the drop site, he still kept a sharp eye on the treeline.

Tarkus, on the other hand, didn't appear to notice the chance of danger, or at least wasn't bothered by it. He had maintained a fast march since the day before, and John suspected they'd covered a few kilometers. "Not that we're getting any closer." He grumbled. As they traveled, the location of the signal resolved itself to be a large building, vaguely pyramidal in shape. It reminded John of the Ancient Mayan ruins he'd seen in one of the history vids back on Earth, but instead of being crafted from stone, it gleaming as though formed from mercury. But there was something else that bothered him about it. He voiced this concern to Cortana.

"_It's Forerunner._" She breathed, stunned by the simple fact that they had been here too. John watched the structure until it vanished behind the trees once more.

"Did you say something?" Tarkus asked suddenly.

John froze, then shook his head. "No." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Tarkus looked at him a while longer before resuming his march. John was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Tarkus stopped again, this time looking out into the undergrowth.

"We are not alone." Tarkus growled as John's motion indicator lit up with contacts. Hundreds of them. "We must get moving. They cannot be allowed to engage us like this."

"Who are they?" John asked. Tarkus didn't reply, only bringing his weapon to bear on the trees. Cortana chimed in, "There is a clearing 200 meters to the east. You might make it before whatever's out there gets to us." John relayed this information to Tarkus, who immediately set off the direction he indicated. John followed, suddenly aware of a feral yelling that had arisen out of the silence.

"What's out there?" John asked again. Tarkus stared at him.

"You have not encountered the greenskins before? Where are you from?" Tarkus asked, suspicion hardening the edge of his words.

Any further discussion was cut off by a sudden howl. Panicked birds took to flight in droves. Tarkus felt his muscles tense up in anticipation of battle. He breathed deeply, allowing his centuries of training to clear his mind. He checked to make sure the safety on his bolter, then set it to burst. He would need to conserve ammo for the fight ahead. He advised John to do the same.

John looked at him. "What are we up against exactly?" He asked one last time.

Tarkus spared him a glance before focusing on the clamor coming from around them. "Orks." He said simply. John's next question on what an ork was was quickly answered when the first one came barreling from the treeline, a roaring weapon raised above its head and bellowing ferociously.

***


	9. The Battle Is Joined

When John thought back to the time he spent on that forsaken planet with his companions, no other battle he fought was as ferocious or tested his skills as much as the one against the orks. He had faced Covenant Elites, Hunters, and even taken down Flood victims, but none of them compared to an ork in the slightest.

What came out of the woods at them was little more than an overeager grunt, but it was the hardest fight John ever experienced. He leveled his assault rifle at the oncoming ork and sprayed it with a full clip of rounds. The ork didn't even flinch, only roaring louder as it closed in. John widened his stance, bracing for close combat, but the ork never landed its blow. An explosive roar sounded behind John, and the ork's head vanished into a red fountain. He glanced around to see Tarkus's unfeasibly large gun streaming a slight trail of smoke. "A weapon such as that will not suffice." He said, drawing a combat sword from his belt. He handed it over to John. "I am loathe to engage the greenskins in close combat, as that is where they excel, but we have neither the numbers nor the resources to hold them off at range." John grasped the offered hilt. It was a short blade intended for stabbing, serrated near the crosspiece. He gave an experimental twirl. Heavy, but easily managed thanks to his enhanced muscles and MJOLNIR armor. He nodded his thanks to Tarkus, who drew his own blade. It was longer, and more elaborately decorated than the standard issue blade John held. He stabbed the blade point first into the ground. "Prepare yourself, Master Chief," Tarkus called over the growing noise in the treeline, "If you have never faced orks before, this will most likely test your mettle as a warrior."

The orks came in a wave of green that spilled from the foliage like a moving extension of the undergrowth. Tarkus's bolter barked fire at the on coming tide. John engaged the magnetic panels on the back of his armor and slid his assault rifle into place. It wouldn't be of use here. The first ork to reach John rasied its axe high, ready to cleave the Spartan in two. John simply sidestepped at hammered a fist into the ork's face. Bones broke under the blow, and the alien howled in pain. John swiftly grabbed the hefty weapon it dropped and hammered the blade into the ork's skull. He then brought the combat blade up and stabbed it into the next greenskin's chest, pulling up and tearing its chest cavity open. A few boyz lined up at the edge of the clearing and leveled crude machine guns at him. Wherever the bullets stuck, though, a sparking energy shield flared into existence. John grabbed the nearest ork and crammed a fragmentation grenade into its mouth. He then sent it on its way with a boot to the small of its back. It stumbled away into the cluster of its comrades, scratching at the metal cylinder in its jaws before detonating. Scraps of flesh showered down, though through the cloud of dust came yet more orks. Behind him, Tarkus's bolter kept up its sharp reports. He had long since switched to full auto, such was the weight of the foes upon them. He fired until he emptied out his magazine, then dropped the weapon. He drew his sword from the ground, engaging its energy field as he lifted it. The first ork he struck parted like wet paper, spraying blood as it fell in two. Tarkus whirled, ducking under the wild strike directed as his head and slashed upwards. The foe before him had just enough time to stare at its severed limb before Tarkus relieved it of its head.

* * *

John parried yet another blow. His arms felt like lead. He had been fighting for what felt like an eternity, though Cortana kindly reminded him that it had only been fifteen hours, twenty-five minutes since the first ork emerged from the woods. John simply grunted in reply, thrusting his blade into the stomach of the ork before him. Their numbers were staggering. For every one that was killed, three stepped forward to take his place. An ork swung an over sized meat cleaver at him, which he let glance off of his shields. He lashed out, driving the blade through the greenskin's eye socket. The ork fell sideways, twisting the blade from his grasp. John looked up. More orks were racing towards him, but a metallic clanking had filled the air along with the guttural sounds of combat. He flashed a quick glance at Tarkus, who returned the look.

"Kan." He said simply, returning his attentions to the foes before him.

John was beginning to get tired of Tarkus's lack of desire to explain what these things when the Kan showed itself. He decided that they were aptly named. The vehicle was a metal cylinder with a pair of legs, arms, and a number of weapons crudely welded to its surface. One arm ended in a pincer that crackled with energies barely understood by the very beings that used them, the other in a spinning sawblade. A thin slit showed any indication that a driver existed in that conglomeration of parts. John pulled the last grenade off of his belt and set off at a run.

"What are you doing!" Tarkus yelled, struggling with and especially large ork.

"Dealing with something!" John called back. He grabbed a club as he ran, mauling the nearest ork with it in an attempt to clear a path. The Kan saw this, and set off as fast as its squat strutted legs could manage. The distance, and number of orks between them, close quickly. _"What are you doing Chief?"_ Cortana asked, concern entering her voice, _"You can't take that thing on alone! You don't even know what it is or what it can do!"_

"Try me." John swung the club at the Kan's body. It clanked off, sending vibrations juddering up his arm. A low laugh emitted from inside the Kan, and the claw swung in for John's head. He ducked, moving off to this right. As he did though, his shield flared up and immediately dropped. He hadn't anticipated the saw coming in. Sparks flared off his right shoulder as the blade sunk into the shoulder guard. John spun away. The saw retracted for a moment, then swung back in again. "Chief!" Cortana cried, "The joint!" John looked where she indicated. The joint of the arm was exposed, nothing more than a series of struts surrounding the actuator. Sliding inside the reach of the saw, he rammed the club into the joint and twisted it, locking the arm in its current position. Sparks flew from the actuator as the driver pushed it past its limit. The joint blew out in a cloud of oily smoke and electrical fire. John primed the grenade in his hand, and punched his fist through the visor slit. Suddenly, the claw got a hold of his leg, and threw him back. John looked up in time to see the Kan detonate with a metallic _krump_, showering flaming debris over the prone Spartan. He got to his feet, a soft hum indicating that his suit's shield chargers had activated. Grabbing the combat blade he'd dropped, he hurried back to help Tarkus.

Tarkus, meanwhile, had been fending off the greater part of the ork horde. His sword was down to its last charge and the wound in his leg was pulling painfully tight with every step. Not that he had much walking to do. The orks pressed in so densely on each side that he only had to lash out to strike one down. An axe rang off his right shoulder guard, and he whirled around to strike down the xeno. A sharp crack rang out across the battle, and the ork fell, a neat hole punched in its temple. Another three shots rang out, each striking with perfect accuracy. Tarkus spared a glance in the directions the shots had come from. The Spartan, Master Chief, was standing to his right, legs braced, some sort of long barreled rifle held to his shoulder. He let off another four shots, then reloaded. Tarkus allowed himself a grim smile. That is, until he realized that the orks had stopped coming. Master Chief gave him a look that, even through the opaque visor, said _What next?_. Then the tree parted and Tarkus's world exploded into fire.

* * *

Tarkus was thrown aside like a leaf in a hurricane. He hit a tree and slid down in a clatter of plate armor. He could see that Master Chief had been similarly thrown back, but could not see where the warrior had gone. Striding into the clearing was on of the largest orks Tarkus had ever seen. It was clad in heavy sheets of metal that could very well have come off of a battle tank. Its right arm was replaced from the elbow down with a massive power claw, while the left hand held a quad barreled heavy stubber. Over his shoulder was a shell launcher of some kind. Tarkus shook his head to clear it and reached for his power sword. As he grasped the hilt, however, the warboss brought his claw down on the blade and snapped it off half way down. The warboss chuckled, lumbering towards the prone Astartes with malicious intent burning in his red eyes. A sharp crack, and the warboss's left eye exploded in a shower of crimson.

"Move!" shouted John, taking aim again. He had been knocked off his feet and hurled into a tree by the blast, maintaining a grip on his rifle as he went. Now he took his second shot, which pinged off of the heavy shoulder armor of the ork. He had never seen anything this big. It towered over Tarkus, and probably would have put most Hunters to shame as well. The ork glared at him with its remaining good eye, and leveled what appeared to be four heavy caliber guns chained together. The guns opened fire, sawing through the tree trunk in seconds. John leapt out, rolling when he hit the ground to find himself face to face with the ork. "Heh," It rumbled,"Never seen a 'humie like you before. Wonder what yur head'll look like on me boss poll!" John didn't have time to wonder what a boss poll was as the ork swung its massive powered claw down to meet him. He rolled aside, coming up into a combat crouch. The ork whirled around, charging faster than John could have imagined. He leveled the rifle at the beast, who simply smashed it aside. It then punched John in the side, throwing his clear across the clearing. He hit the ground hard, feeling blood fill his mouth. A hard bark of bolter fire filled the clearing again. Tarkus had retrieved his firearm, and was attempting to draw the warboss away, but the bolts rattled off the armor plates like flies striking a window. The ork laughed, its voice harsh and raucous, "Is that the best you 'humies got? I should been out here earlier instead of wastin' all these boyz on yeh." He began to advance on John again when a new sound filled the clearing.

A loud revving echoed through the woods. The warboss halted, staring into the green. "Oi! Numbskulls! I didn't call for the truks yet! I'm not done 'ere!" A small gretchin peered out from a bush.

"Don't...don't know what you're talking about." It stammered, "Truks are all lined up nicely, yes. Did good job obeying orders."

The warboss scowled, "Then what do you make of that." He raged, pointing at a rapidly advancing shadow. From the trees erupted a looted Rhino, not yet fully converted to orkish fashion. It plowed into the warboss, pushing him a few meters back. The side doors popped open and a voice called out from inside, "Get in! Quickly!" Tarkus didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed John by the arm and heaved him inside the transport. The doors slammed shut, and the tank revved backwards. The warboss, recovering from the impact, lashed out an arm shouting "Stop 'em! Don't let 'em get away!". His claw raked gouges along the side of the transport, and stubber fire spattered out from the undergrowth, but it was scattered, and nowhere near enough to pose a threat. The tank quickly reversed directions and darted off into the growing gloom.


	10. A Guest Has Joined Your Party

Once they had traveled a fair distance, the Rhino came to a halt. Its engines switched off, and the rear exit ramp opened. John was the first one out, and once he had cleared the tank he immediately pulled his helmet off and vomited in the bushes. He'd been holding it in ever since the warboss struck him, and as a result a good deal of it was blood. Tarkus followed him out, limping slightly as the wound in his leg acted up. He too pulled his helmet off, relishing in the fresh air over the recycled stuff he'd been breathing. The driver's hatch on the Rhino cranked open, and a figure heaved itself out. Tarkus turned to face him, and thank him for his assistance, when he froze. The figure that stood before him was a woman in a dirty, torn blue suit. Her blond hair was matted and hung around her face. Her left arm was obviously injured, judging by the way she held it, and her right leg was bandaged with bloody scraps of fabric. John joined him, his helmet back in place.

"And who would you be?" Tarkus asked.

"My name is Samus Aran," she said. Her voice was strong, despite her haggard looks, "And I need you help."

* * *

Yikes! Sorry guys. This one took a while. But trust me, the time was well spent. As you see, the final player in this has been revealed! Now we can really get down to business.


	11. Assistance Is Required

A long silence fell across the group.

Tarkus stiffened visibly, "What do you mean you need our help?" He asked, suspicion more than caution hardening the edges of his words.

Samus ignored his tone, "I mean, I need your help. Your abilities. This planet will not survive long if we do not act soon."

John looked at her quizzically, "What do you mean the planet won't survive? Are we talking invasion?"

Samus viewed the two warriors before her. The first, dressed in red plate armor and larger than anything possibly imaginable, radiated power and strength, but also intelligence. The other was shorter than the figure in red, slightly taller than herself due to the suit of metallic green armor he wore, but still carried an authority of command despite his hidden face. These two would not be easily coerced into following blindly into what could very well be a fight to the death. She sighed.

A sharp crack echoed through the woods to the west. Several more followed suit. All three of them looked in the direction of the noises.

"We have to get moving." John said, racking the slide on his assault rifle. "We can't fight them in the open like this."

"What are you talking about?" Tarkus demanded, obviously frustrated by the lack of information he was receiving. "Who are they?"

"They are the Covenant, and they will not hesitate to kill us if we are spotted." John said without turning around. "If we head to that building we saw earlier, we may stand a chance."

At that moment, a sharp whistling noise cut through the woods. Tarkus turned just as a flurry of pink flechettes embedded themselves in his left shoulder guard. A volley of heavier spikes followed, striking the tree next to him. Plasma bolts filled the air, causing John's shield to spark and flare when it was struck.

"Get moving!" Tarkus bellowed over the shriek of weapons fire. John didn't need to be told twice, already moving towards the gleaming structure in the distance. Samus limped along as quickly as she could before her leg finally gave out. John caught her, throwing an arm across her shoulders to help he stay upright. "Com on, Tarkus!" He called, waving his free arm, "We need to get out of here!"

Tarkus waved them away, bringing his bolter to bear on the source of the attack. "Go on, I'll hold them off!" John started to object, but something in the way Tarkus stood told him he should just get going. Probably the fact that no matter how tough you may, you don't argue with a two meter armor super soldier. John's previous run-ins with the Covenant Elites had told him that much. Moving as quickly as they could without causing undue pain, John and Samus disappeared into the foliage. Tarkus set his weapon to full-auto and loaded a fresh clip. He probably wouldn't need more than two, but every shot would have to count. Leveling the boltgun at the trees, Tarkus waited until his auto-senses picked up shadows just beyond the edge of perception. These aliens, these Covenant, would pay dearly for the brothers he had lost. That much he was sure of.


	12. A Hidden Foe

"You know, this would go a lot faster if I could just carry you."

"I told you this once, but I'll say it again. I don't need or want to be carried. Were it not for this damned leg, I'd be far ahead by now."

John sighed. Despite her strength, Samus was beginning to wear on his patience. Her refusal to be carried meant that he had to help her walk, which in turn hampered his own effectiveness should they be ambushed. "_Just keep moving Chief._" Cortana said soothingly, "_It's not much farther._"

"It's not the distance that worries me." John said, glancing around, "It's the silence. Covenant always send at least a few Jackals out to scout. That we haven't come across any concerns me." He checked the ammo display on his weapon. 35 rounds left, plus two clips on his belt. It wouldn't go every far.

"Who are you?"

John hesitated, thrown off by the sudden question. "What?"

"Who are you?" Samus repeated, "What's your name? You're carrying me through a jungle on an unknown planet, having met me only minutes ago, and I don't even know who you are."

"I'm Master Chief Petty Officer of the Na-"

"I don't want your military designation." Samus interrupted, "I get enough of that working with the Galactic Federation. Do you have a name? Something human, maybe?"

John gave her an irritated look that she calmly returned with an unimpressed one of her own. "John." He said finally, "My name is John."

"And your friend?"

"Tarkus."

Any response Samus might have given was interrupted by an ear-shredding blast of gunfire from behind them. Until that point, all that emanated from Tarkus position had been soft spitting of plasma and needler fire. The roar of even a single boltgun drowned out all other sounds. Samus craned her head, trying to locate the source. "Looks like they found him." John said without turning around, "We should hurry."

"Don't look now," Samus murmured, "but we've got company." At the edges of perception, shadowy figures moved in the dark. John checked his motion sensor and, sure enough, it was lit up with signatures.

"Jackals." he grunted. He unholstered his pistol and offered it to her, grip first. "Can you stand?"

Samus took the weapon, testing the weight and peering down the sights, "If I don't have to do any running, I'll be fine."

"Good. They carry energy shields, so aim carefully." John looked over his shoulder. The steady thunder of gunfire had broken up into shorter bursts. He couldn't believe it, but he actually wanted Tarkus to pull through. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, John cocked his gun. "Lets get moving."

They walked slowly, partly due to Samus's injury, but also partly to keep the Jackals in sight. Occasionally they would hear whispered grunts and whoops, but not one of them moved from their places at the fringes. "Why don't they attack?" Samus wondered aloud after about a few hours of walking.

"_They must be tracking us. Watch for extra forces when you arrive at the Forerunner structure._" Cortana observed.

John made another visual sweep of the treeline. The Jackals were still there, watching quietly from the darkness. "No change in status of enemy contacts," He said aloud, checking behind them at the same time, "But we are getting close to the structure and-" He stopped suddenly. A figure was emerging confidently from the treeline. "Sangheili" He hissed.

"What?" Samus asked without turning around.


	13. Visions Of Madness

"Elites." John replied, and swung his Assault Rifle up to his shoulder. The Elite kept walking, a Beam Sword held ready but deactivated in its right hand. John followed it with his rifle as it approached. With a sharp crack, the Beam Sword flared into life. At the same moment, John fired. The Elite's shield caught the burst full on, and John stepped forward to hammer the butt of his gun across the Covenant soldier's face.

-Samus spun around at the first burst. John was firing at...nothing. There was no target to speak of, but trees and undergrowth. At first she thought he may have missed something deep in the woods, until he swung wildly at nothing, as though he were attacking something unseen.

The blow landed with a solid thunk, and the Elite was flung backward. It appeared unharmed by the blow however, as it stood and resumed its relentless advance on him. John raised his weapon to fire again, when a second Sangheili detached itself from the trees. A third followed shortly after. Soon, dozens were appearing from the foliage, each armed with only a Beam Sword. John backed up, firing on full auto into the group.

-He began firing indiscriminately.

Again, the aliens were undaunted by the prospect of advancing openly into a SPARTAN's gunsights. John emptied his clip, and engaged the Elites in combat. The first Beam Sword swung dangerously close, but he dodged it with no problem and landed a punch on the attacker's midriff. The Elite was again flung backward, but other than that suffered no ill effects. Each Elite attacked in turn, never all at once, and each time John narrowly dodged the blow and returned one of his own, but no matter how many times they were hit they simply got back up.

-She took a step forward to tell him to stop when he suddenly spun around to face her. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and his helmet was off. His armor, once dark green, was now pitted and stained as though it had lain in a swamp for some time. Rust covered large patches of it, and maggots crawled through sections of exposed flesh.

He could feel the ache beginning to build in his muscles, and knew it was only a matter of time before he was struck down. He couldn't let that happen. He had so many battles left to fight.

-His face, which Samus has never seen, was a rotted husk, riddled with sores oozing with pus and other vile liquids. He opened his mouth and released a toxic cloud of poison that billowed blackly in the air between them.

The thought of being struck down gave him strength, and at the next swing he caught the Sangheili's arm instead, and tore its head from its body. Indigo ichor spewed in a wide arc, and John relished in its vibrance.

-Samus stumbled back, reviled at such a sight. Even the worst experiments of the Space Pirates weren't as disgusting as that which John had become.

Seizing the nearest Elite by its throat, he punched his fist through its chest and ripped its heart out, holding it aloft as he screamed at the heavens in defiance.

-He took a step towards her, rotted teeth etched in a grin across his face. "Come on, then," He grumbled, the sound like ten-thousand nails on a chalkboard, "We've got a long way to go Samus...wouldn't want to let everyone down, would we?"

He wouldn't die, he would kill them all. He would kill them, and their bones would pave the path to his greatness as their screams heralded his approach.

-John chuckled, and bile poured out from between his cracked lips.

A blood soaked sky stretched before him, littered with the corpses of those he had killed in the past. Dark laughter rang out across the reaches of this plain of death.

-A thought entered her mind. What if she destroyed the creature? It was no longer human, that was for sure.

Pleading civilians clawed at his greaves, begging to be spared. He laughed harshly, kicking out and crushing them beneath his boots.

-She still had his side arm. It would only take a few shots. And when she had killed it, she could find Tarkus, and kill him too! And everyone else on this miserable planet!

Their pitiful screams rang out from throats hoarse from terror. He would burn this world, and the next one, and the next one. The UNSC was only holding him back. Surely he was an instrument of war, not some dog on a leash!

-Thoughts of the worlds she could rule filled her mind. Sweeping populaces bowed before her as she strode forward, clad in jet black armor inscribed with runes of dominance.

He grabbed another Sangeheili and tore it in half, letting its life essence freely flow onto his armor. "Blood!" he cried, "Let there be BLOOD!"

-"Mine," she mumbled, "All mine. The glory, the power to do that which I desire." Her voice rose, escalating to a shriek. " I don't need anyone! I have the power! It's mine! ALL MINE!"


	14. Purge the Unclean

Tarkus burst into the clearing in a shower of leaves and broken branches. What he found was chaos. Samus knelt on the ground, screaming and laughing in equal measures. John was off to once side, covered in what appeared to be a dark purple blood, the obliterated corpse of some unfortunate creature plastered over everything around him. Tarkus made to approach them when a claw the size of his chest slammed down in front of him. He stopped short, looking up at the source of the attack. Suspended in the lower branches was an obese blob of light that glowed and pulsed with a sickly light. A number of tendrils dangled from its lower surface clustered above Samus and Tarkus and siphoning small wisps off of them from time to time. Tarkus felt his choler grow at the sight of the beast.

"Unclean thing of the Warp!" he bellowed, "I will see thee destroyed before I leave this place!"

The creature let loose a grating screech that made Tarkus's vision swim with its volume. It lashed out with another clawed tendril, which Tarkus side stepped swiftly. He drew his chainsword, revving into life, and hacked the limb in two. The daemon screeched again, this time in agony. Tarkus raised the boltgun in his other hand, loosing a salvo of bolts into the things body. The bolts detonated inside its gelatinous form, blasting oozing craters in it. The daemon shimmered, briefly going insubstantial before restoring its stability. Tarkus used the creature's dissolution to close on Samus, who was closest to him. Taking the chainsword in a two handed grip, he swung high and severed the tendrils holding Samus captive. This time, the daemon bellowed in fury and its connection to the prey was cut. One tendril aimed itself at Tarkus and darted at him point first. Tarkus ducked, just barely avoiding the attack. He quickly realized that as long as it held a captive, it would nearly impossible to banish the creature. However, the daemon had arranged several clawed tendrils around John, preventing any sort of rescue. He pulled Samus off to one side and leaned her against a tree out of harms way while he looked for a way to finish off the warp beast. He gazed up at the tree tops where it had fixed itself and had an idea. Skirting the clearing, he found a sizable tree near the daemon. Then, bunching his muscles, he pushed. The tree groaned in protest, for its roots ran deep and strong. But few things can withstand an Astartes in full power armour, and slowly but surely, Tarkus uprooted it. Finally, gravity took hold, and the tree was ripped from the ground in a shower of earth and debris. As it fell, it struck the daemon squarely in the side and knocked it to the ground. The daemon screamed again, but this time in release. It had spent too much time in the material world without proper feeding, and as such, the ruin Tarkus visited upon its essence was too much for it to handle. The creature began to trash as though boiling before imploding in an explosion of light. Tarkus breathed a sigh of relief and offered a prayer of cleansing to the Emperor and the Primarch. Then he went about reviving the others.

John was relatively easy to resuscitate, as he awoke instantly when Tarkus touched his shoulder. "What the hell was that?" he gasped, breathless.

"That was a daemon, an unclean creature of the Warp. They are foul things, born of another world altogether, yet they feed in ours. That one in particular traps its prey with visions of glory, then drains their life essence as they fall further into the dream. My chapter's Librarians have many records of them, for they number among the most dangerous daemons." Tarkus said, he voice hard with hatred.

"So that...thing...was in my head?" John asked, his strength returning as his mind restored its integrity.

"In a manner of speaking. Daemons are born of psychic energy, so it is an easy matter for them to invade an unprotected mind. You are lucky to have survived the encounter. I trust you will be more careful next time, or you may not come back the same way you are now."

John shook his head to clear it and stood, "I don't get fooled the same way twice. Believe me, if we find another one, I'll kill it myself." he said resolutely.

"If you are truly fortunate, we will not find another." Tarkus said, "Come, let us check on Samus."

Samus was already awake when they came to her. She did not say anything when they approached, merely nodded to them solemnly. Tarkus helped her up, and John threw his arm across her shoulder to brace her.

"We should leave this place. It reeks of sorcery." Tarkus growled. "My locator tells me our destination is about half a day's walk from here. Are you fit for travel?"

Samus whispered something to John, who nodded in assent. "Good." Tarkus said, turning in the direction indicated by the flickering icon on his helmet display, "Let us be gone from here."


	15. Almost Within Reach

They marched in silence for the majority of the trip, occasionally stopping to hand Samus off to Tarkus when John became fatigued. It had been several days since he had had a good night's rest, and John was feeling combat fatigue worst than ever. The run in with the daemon, and Tarkus had called it, probably hadn't helped either. He didn't understand how Tarkus could be in the state he was and still keep going as though life were a walk in the park. Even Samus, who had been knocked around worse than any of them, was still soldiering on. He pushed these thoughts from his mind, and focussed on his overwatch patrol. The motion detector was laced with static, and occasionally flickered out all together. Cortana had patched herself into the suits external sensors and modified them to also track heat signatures. It wasn't perfect, as those systems were intended to warn the wearer when the environment got too dangerous, but she still tried to give him regular updates.

"40 meters." Tarkus suddenly said. It was the first thing any of them had said since they had left the clearing. John peered through the trees. They were still very dense, but he almost though he could see the structure gleaming in the distance. "Wait for a moment." Tarkus paused, letting Samus lean against a tree. She was pale, and sweat beaded on her forehead, but her eyes blazed with fierce determination. "My senses detect a large clearing around the building, approximately 20 meters in diameter from the edge of the building. We should stick to the treeline until we had more accurate information regarding potential entrances to the structure and threats."

_"Chief," _Cortana whispered into his ear, _"I'm getting contacts. Coming in from the north. They appear to be airborn. I can't get a fix on their numbers, but we shouldn't stick around outside for too long."_

"Noted." John muttered back. "In any case, we shouldn't waste too much time here. We don't know if anyone or any_thing_ else is in the area."

"Agreed." Tarkus said. He turned to Samus. "How are you injuries?"

"I've been better." She said, testing her leg, "But if it comes to it, I should be able to do some quick moving."

"Good. Chief, you take point. Samus, cover middle. I will take up the rear." Tarkus said . They moved swiftly into position.

"Rapid advance. Combat speed." John said . They set off at a rapid pace, not wanting to be caught in an extended engagement again.

As they moved, the trees rapidly got thinner until they ended abruptly in a wide cleared area. At the center of the perfectly circular clearing was a silver structure shaped like a pyramid with the upper half removed. The surface was completely smooth, lacking any blemishes or distinguishing marks. The sky was a clear blue and the sun was high, causing the silver exterior to shine like burnished gold. John slowed as the ragtag group neared the edge of the trees, using the thick leafy undergrowth to mask his presence from any watching eyes. Increasing the zoom function on his helmet, he scanned the structure for any kind of entrance.

"I don't see a way in." Samus observed.

"Standard tactical doctrine states that we should surround and search all sides of the construct before attempting to access it." Tarkus stated matter-of-factly. John shook his head.

"We don't have the kind of presence for that kind of maneuver." he said, "And splitting up would only weaken whatever strength we have."

"_Chief,"_ Cortana sounded concerned, _"Those signatures I picked up earlier have disappeared. It's like they just dropped off the planet...wait. I'm getting another reading, but I've never seen anything like it. This can't be right. The biometrics on these things are higher than anything I've seen before."_

"Can you get a fix?" John asked, suddenly on alert.

"_No, I'm getting a lot of interference and your armor's GPS took a bad hit during that fight with the orks. All I can say is that they're outputting more energy than a fleet of Wraiths."_

A cold wind blew through the trees, picking up leaves and dust and hurling them around. A low moan issued from the woods, as though some great beast had been awoken. Tarkus stiffened.

"We are being watched." he said, scanning for targets. The wind died down, but the cold remained, causing Samus's breath to billow out in great clouds of vapor. A thin layer of ice began to form on Tarkus's shoulder guards. The moaning of the trees also faded, but a new sound grew to replace it. A mechanical whine became audible, growing in intensity at a rapid rate. Samus cocked her head, trying to localize the noise.

"Anti-grav generator. Probably from a light vehicle." she closed her eyes, listening intently, "I'd estimate four or five of them." As if on cue, a skiff came crashing through the trees just behind them. It slewed around to avoid overshooting them, and John saw one of the occupants bring some kind of turret around.

"Move!" he shouted as the gun opened fire. Brilliant purple bolts of energy exploded around them, kicking great clods of dirt. He began sprinting along the treeline as two more skiffs screamed in behind the first. He threw himself behind a boulder as more bolts shattered the trees around him. Samus slid in a moment later. "Where's Tarkus?" he shouted over the shriek of energy.

"He was right behind me." Samus shouted back. John leaned around the edge of the rock. Tarkus was trapped between two of the skiffs, both of which where spraying him mercilessly with fire. His gun roared again and again, blasting craters in the sides of the vehicles. Occasionally, one of the attackers would be thrown from the deck, blasted free by the explosive bolts, but the effect it had was minimal considering the weight of fire levied against the Space Marine. As John watched, a salvo of shots struck Tarkus in the chest. Molten armor splashed against the ground, leaving glowing gouges in his breastplate. He staggered from the onslaught, forced further away from John and Samus as he sought refuge from the weapons.

"Let's go." John said, breaking from cover to head toward Tarkus.

"Are you crazy?" Samus asked, incredulous, "Going out there is a death sentence."

"I'm not just going to sit back and watch him die." Having made his point, John continued at a run. Samus shook her head, but followed as quickly as she could.


	16. Getting Here Was the Easy Part

Tarkus jinked aside as another volley shredded the foliage around him. He had discarded his helmet some time ago, but the last information it had displayed had been to alert him of the numerous breaches in his armour. Even without its warning runes, Tarkus would have known of the damage done. His left knee joined wheezed with every step, his right shoulder guard was a molten wreck, his right arm was without power and his breastplate was barely holding together. The pain dispensers had drained themselves dry after a glancing hit grazed the reservoir and as such he keenly felt each injury he sustained. He pushed these thoughts from his mind, however, as the skiffs came around for another pass. They reminded him of the eldar pirates he had fought in wars previous, in its bladelike form and quick, lightly armored construction. The difference lay in the fact that the eldar pirates displayed gory trophy racks hung with the entrails and corpses of those they had slain. These aliens sported close fitting black armor that gave them remarkable agility and protection, although not enough to protect them from the wrath of his boltgun. Tarkus dove to avoid a spray of bolts, ducking into a roll and coming into a crouch. He fired two bursts at the nearest of the two skiffs, the first shots taking a gunner high in the chest and blasting it in half, the other catching the driver in the shoulder and blowing its arm off. The skiff swerved violently, crashing into its companion and taking them both to the ground. Discarding his empty weapon, Tarkus drew his chainsword and revved it to life.

The surviving occupants leapt free of the burning transports and brandished what appeared to be a variety of blades and energy rifles. They charged at Tarkus with blinding speed, crossing the 10 meters between them in a matter of seconds. The nearest one charged head on, to which Tarkus responded by driving his fist into its face and out the back of its head. Pulling his fist free, he hacked the second in half from shoulder to groin. Then the rest of the group arrived, and he lost all sense of self as his combat training took over. A blade came in high for his throat, which he caught on his vambrace and stabbed the attacker in the chest, ripping the blade out of its ruined ribcage in a welter of blood and shatter bone. A red beam scored a furrow in his shoulder guard, melting the ceramite. A series of gunshots rang out, and Tarkus spun around to see three xenos drop to the ground, a perfectly round hole in each of their foreheads.

Ten meters behind them, Samus stood, a smoking magnum held in her hands.

"Space Pirates." she spat, distaste evident in her tone.

There was a crashing in the tree to his left, and John came charging out, knife in hand. His first strike caught his target just under the ear, tearing up through the skull and dropping the alien like a stone. The blade stuck halfway up the skull, so he left it there and waded in bare hande. He grabbed a pirate by the throat and threw it to the ground, stomping its skull into a bloody pulp. Several beams converged on him at once, causing his shield to flare up brightly. Another series of shots as Samus expertly cut down any pirates that attempted to stay at range. Within a matter of minutes, the raiding party had been completely destroyed. Samus started picking through the bodies.

"These are not normal Space Pirates." she said, after inspecting several of them closely.

"Space Pirates?" John asked quizzically.

"Yes. Not the most original of names, but it's the best translation of what they call themselves in their own tongue. They are a space faring race of raiders, only concerned with acquiring more wealth by whatever means necessary. They also consider themselves to be scientists of a sort, although their experiments almost never benefit anyone but themselves. See these growths?" She pointed at the nearest intact corpse, which sported several large bright blue crystals sprouting from its arms and back. "Those are Phazon growths. Phazon is a biomutagenic, crystalline substance that has unpredictable effects on objects when exposed." she turned the corpse over with her boot, " These pirates look like they were exposed to a significant amount of Phazon, perhaps even had it implanted in their bodies."

"What does that mean? What kind of threat do they pose?" Tarkus asked, retrieving his empty boltgun from where he had dropped it.

"Phazon's most striking feature is that it has very similar properties to virus. It seeks to infect and transform everything around it to spread as far as possible. It all starts with a Phazon core, a dense clump of Phazon that crashes into a planet and burrows into the crust. The infection starts there, and spreads until the planet is consumed. Then a new core is formed from the infected planet and the process starts anew. The only way to truly eradicate it is to find the Phazon core deep within the planet's surface and destroy it."

Tarkus's scarred face lined with thought, "It would seem that this is more than just coincidence."

John and Samus looked at him. He continued, "Orks and daemons, Space Pirates, Covenant...These are some of the most dangerous foes we have faced, and yet none of us have ever met before coming here. Something is underway here, and it stinks of treachery. Someone is pulling the strings from the shadows, and I for one do not appreciate it."

John nodded in assent, then looked sharply into the forest. Tarkus did the same.

"Do you hear that?" John said, staring into the green.

"Indeed." In the distance, a great crashing could be made out. It rapidly grew louder, and while the trees where still too thick to see very far, large dark shapes could be made out.

Samus darted a look at the silver structure, still shining in the midday sun.

"We should go." she said and began moving towards the treeline. John and Tarkus followed quickly. The crashing grew louder, and soon John could see massive armoured forms barreling toward them.

"_Hunters..."_ Cortana breathed.

"GO!" John shouted, and broke into a run. Samus sprinted after him, gritting her teeth against that pain. Tarkus followed behind them, but it was obvious that their pursuers would catch them before they reached the building. Revving up his chainsword again, he hacked down a number of trees as he went, felling them in the hope that they would slow whoever was behind them. But the attackers came on, smashing the trees aside effortlessly. Tarkus slowed down, and turned to face the incoming forms.

"Tarkus, no! You can't stop them!" John shouted over his shoulder. Tarkus ignored him, bracing to ready himself for combat. The first shape crushed the tree in front of him and he finally saw what was chasing them. Four meters tall, it towered over him like a Space Marine towers over a man. In its left hand it clutched a shield, fully two meters in length, made of dark metal that gleaming in the half-light, while its right hand gripped some kind of large bore projectile launcher. It was covered in a deep blue armor and had a series of spines coming from its back. What caught Tarkus's eye, however, were the blue crystals jutting from its torso and neck. He only had a moment to observe, however, before the creature lowered its shield and struck him with the force of a carnifex. Tarkus was flung backwards, crashing through trees to land in front of John as he ran. John stopped and offered Tarkus his hand. He waved it away.

"I told you so. Nothing can stop a Hunter in full charge." John said, watching the Hunters close in. They were faster than he remembered. Tarkus got shakily to his feet, his breastplate shattered and useless. He coughed up a wad of blood and glared in the direction of the oncoming hunters. He gripped the hilt of his chainsword tightly, then looked at it and realized the reason it had stopped running was that it had been broken halfway up the blade, the snapped chain hanging out of the housing.

"Come on!" Samus called. She was already at the extreme edge of the trees. John set off toward her. Tarkus threw one last glare at the Hunters, but followed all the same. They ran out of the dark under the trees and into the glaring sun. Halfway across the clearing, the Hunters broke from the cover of the trees, and John saw them fully for the first time. He recognized the crystal formations as being the same as those on the Space Pirates. The Hunters fired energy blasts in his direction, but the range was too extreme, and the shots went wide. All the same, he and Samus out on an extra burst of speed. Ahead of him, Tarkus was reaching the silver structure. He hammered a fist on its side.

"Open up, in the Emperor's name!" he bellowed. For a moment, there was no response. He raised his fist to hammer again, when a small square slid up in front of him. A single red lens observed him for a moment, then the square slid back into place. A mechanical whine slowly grew into being, and several rectangular ports opened up in the side of the building. Tarkus recognized weapon mounts of varying designs, some of them Imperial. With a ripple of gunfire that sounded like thunder, the side of the building lit up like a sun. Energy bolts and beams lanced out to greet the Hunters. Most of the shots were blocked or deflected by the unnaturally hard shields the Hunters wielded, but some got through, and more than one Hunter was brought low, a smoking hole blasted in it. Standard munitions flew forth as well, and Tarkus had spent more than enough time fighting as an Astartes to recognize bolt rounds when he saw them. The bolts had a devastating effect on the charging Hunters, blasting great craters from their bodies as they approached. Within minutes, the ground before the great silver structure was stained with bright puddles of blue ichor.

Samus and John came up quickly, heads held low to avoid the fire raining down from above.

"Nice job getting the guns on," John yelled over the crack of gunfire, "but how do we get in?"

"I am working on it." Tarkus replied. Leaning in toward the silver wall, he attempted another hail. "This is Sergeant Tarkus of the Blood Ravens Third Company requesting access. Priority Alpha code input :Sigma Epsilon three-three-five."

"More incoming..." Samus said warningly. The last Hunter had fallen, having been blasted into the ground by concentrated fire, but a new threat was emerging from the treeline. Hulking figures waving a random assortment of blades and pistols burst from the tree, a feral cry on their lips. Great crystalline protrusions sprouted from their shoulders and arms, and glowed with an eery light.

"Orks." He spat. The greenskins were joined by lighter figures, the Space Pirates Samus had identified, and the horde charged into the killing ground with reckless abandon. No matter how many were cut down by bolt and beam, another three rose up to take its place. He turned back to the door to try again, but Samus stepped in front of him.

"You've had your spotlight already. Now it's my turn." Tarkus made to interject, but remembered that the Codex said to let other take charge of matters they had more experience in. He nodded, and stepped back to stand with John and watch the berserkers smash themselves on the guns of the silver structure.


End file.
